And Then There's You In The Rain
by ashirisu
Summary: "You're the most beautiful thing that I've ever seen. In the sun, you're mind-blowing. In the snow, you're breathtaking. And then there's you in the rain..." Silly little USUK oneshot, Alfred being completely enamored from afar like the adorable stalker he is :3


There was no denying that Arthur Kirkland was absolutely beautiful, and Alfred knew it.

Everything about the man was utterly brilliant, from his gentlemanly posture to the impatient click of his tongue during long meetings to the adorable scowl his face reverted to when hearing the Frenchman speak.

He was, in all simplicity, _perfect_.

Alfred was well aware of this fact. He would watch the Briton from across the table during meetings, observe how he acted and what he responded to, and had his body language down to a tee. He may be accused of not being able to read the atmosphere (which he _totally_ could, it was just more fun to watch people get mad), but he could read Arthur like a book.

And what a pretty little book he was. Alfred loved to just sit and look at him. He would watch, memorizing every detail of the Englishman's face. He was by no means subtle, but whenever he was caught, he would simply make a face and enjoy the endearing glower he'd receive in response. There was just something about Arthur that caught Alfred's attention many years ago, and had not let it or his heart free since.

Perhaps it was his skin, smooth and pale with just the slightest bit of freckles that only Alfred knew were there. Perhaps it was his slender form, lean and toned, but still small and so vulnerable-looking (though Alfred knew it wasn't, having been on the receiving side of many strong punches). Perhaps it was his eyes, clear and bright and green, so full of life and depth that Alfred felt he could fall in and be happily lost forever. Whatever it was, it had caused Alfred to fall in love, and he had no intention of ever giving that up.

_You're the most beautiful thing that I've ever seen._

* * *

The meeting before last had been in Spain in the dry season. The heat was sweltering, and Alfred found himself migrating to the beach for the majority of the time he was there, not so much to enjoy the water, but to be able to shed a few layers without being arrested in the street. He had run across the other nations at different times, all with their own purposes. Feliciano danced about in the sand, tugging Ludwig around in an attempt to wheedle him into buying ice cream. Ivan played in the water and built sand castles, completely enjoying the hot weather. Francis came to rub lotion onto the population of girls that littered the beach in an attempt to get into their swimsuits. Arthur came to read.

He was topless when Alfred found him. The cuffs of his trousers had been rolled up to just below the knee, and he was stretched out casually over his beach towel as he read. Alfred had been after a stray volleyball, but quickly forgot it (much to his temporary teammates' chagrin). He moved in, just close enough not to be _too_ close, and positioned himself to watch.

No, he was most definitely _not_ creeping. Simply being an interested observer.

As he (ahem) _observed_, Arthur leaned into a more comfortable position. Slightly-defined muscles rolled beneath his light skin, already with a faint sun-kissed blush. The lighter tones in his hair were illuminated, making the blonde strands look nearly platinum. His annoyed scowl had disappeared, and he looked so...relaxed.

After some time, he stood and set his book aside, stretching and rolling his shoulders. Alfred slowly got to his feet as Arthur moved toward the ocean, following him to the shoreline. Arthur stepped into the water, flinching slightly at the stinging cold, but waded out to his shins. His expression changed, his eyes closing and corners of his mouth turning up in a contented smile.

Alfred wished he could kiss that mouth.

Arthur kicked about slightly in the water and the sun caught in the splashing drips, causing bright sparkles that made Alfred squint against the glare. The image was so happy, so perfect, he wanted to be a part of it. He wanted to run and take Arthur up in his arms and dance, water droplets glittering as they moved.

He contented himself with sending a huge and violent splash at Arthur's face, and running away laughing hysterically as the soaked and angry Brit chased him, yelling promises of an imminent hanging.

_In the sun, you're mind-blowing._

* * *

The one after was in wintertime Japan. Snow covered everything, dusting the rice-fields and the gingerbread cottage-like houses and making the world look picturesque, like something out of a children's fairy tale book. Alfred hated the cold, but he loved the snow. It just made everything seem more quiet and peaceful, covering it in a glistening blanket that made the world beautiful.

Snow angels had been a must, of course, and he made himself an entire flock. His gangly arms and legs had made for some massively-winged angels, and Alfred thought they looked pretty boss. He dispersed giant, heroic snowmen (and women, he couldn't be prejudiced. Plus snowballs made _great_ tits) throughout his herd, making sure they all stood in different poses. He gave each one a name, starting out with creative things such as Methuselah and D'artignan, but running out near the end and reverting to ones like Harry, Barry, and Larry. By the time he was finished, Kiku's backyard was completely packed with snow-beings. As Alfred stood back to admire his handiwork, he heard footsteps behind him.

He turned to see Arthur, bundled in a coat and scarf, standing beside him. His face was flushed from the cold, and snowflakes clung to his eyelashes and hair. Alfred felt a strong desire to kiss them away. Arthur had his arms crossed against the wind, tucking his mittened hands into the crooks of his elbows to keep them warm. He pulled one away to gesture to Alfred's creation, asking as to the purpose of all this.

Alfred replied that it was snow, and what the hell else are you supposed to do with it. Arthur smirked slightly and informed Alfred that a much younger version of himself had once believed it was for eating. Alfred grinned in turn and stuffed some in his mouth, only to spit it right back out when he realized he had picked up a clod of dirt with it. Arthur laughed, and it was a rare moment of pure, unbridled mirth in his voice. Alfred was utterly enamored, and decided to display his affection with a snowball to the Englishman's face.

This led to an impromptu snowball fight between the two, and Alfred found his angels stomped through and snowpeople knocked over in an attempt to escape and block attacks. Eventually, tired and out of breath, they collapsed into the snow with a mixture of laughing and panting. Alfred glanced over at Arthur, whose chest was rising and falling erratically as his huffs were interrupted by giggles. He was covered in snow, blushing and laughing and just so amazing that Alfred lost coherent thought for a moment and just happily stared. Arthur caught him at it and blushed harder, pushing himself up and offering Alfred a hand, promising hot chocolate when they went inside. Alfred followed eagerly.

_In the snow, you're breathtaking._

* * *

This time, the meeting was in Oregon. It was mid-autumn, meaning it was the rainy season (although any season in Oregon could be considered the rainy season). The leaves on the deciduous trees had started to turn, providing a lovely contrast with the deep forest of the evergreens. Wind blew through in sporadic gusts, carrying orange and yellowing leaves with it.

Alfred turned his collar up against the bursts, wondering _why_ he chose to have his meeting in a balls-cold place like Oregon. Why not Texas or Arizona, it was always nice and warm there. He tucked his umbrella under his arm, vowing that he would actually think his plan through next time, rather than naming off the first state to pop into mind when his boss called during video game hour (two hours, three hours, there really was no difference).

The meeting had been completely unproductive, as per usual, and Alfred had left with a sour taste in his mouth (though that may have been from accidentally eating his chapstick. It was about the size of his leftover Slim Jim, and he hadn't been looking, okay?). All he wanted was to get to the bus stop and get home before-

The clouds opened and there was a sudden downpour from the heavens.

Alfred swore loudly and fumbled with his umbrella, trying not to drop his newspaper and coffee as he opened it. Failing miserably, he picked his sopping paper out of the puddle, wincing against the wet heat of his spilled drink. He looked up, wondering out loud why today of all days had to be "Shit On America Day," when something caught his eye.

Arthur was across the street, _dancing._

It was literally flooding from the sky, and the idiot was out dancing like his favorite song was playing. His hair was plastered to his forehead, darkened from the wet. His skin was dripping and the fabric of his shirt clung to him where his coat didn't guard it from the rain. His face was upturned, and he was smiling elatedly as though this moment was the happiest in his life.

And he was _magnificent_. Alfred stood, mouth agape, unabashedly staring at this beautiful man dancing like a lunatic on an empty sidewalk. He wanted so badly to run across the street, just to be there, to share in his joy, but he found himself unable to move. It was like his feet were rooted to the cement, holding him in place and rendering him completely incapable of doing anything but standing and watching this ridiculous angel as he danced.

He could not move, but he could yell, and yell he did. He shouted Arthur's name, catching the Brit's attention and causing him to color enormously at the knowledge he had been seen. Alfred went on to yell about what did he think he was doing, being out in the cold like that, he could catch pneumonia and die. Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but Alfred cut him off, saying that yes, he would die a terrible death and that he'd best get out of the rain and having a lunch date with Alfred was clearly the only viable option.

Arthur hesitated, letting the words sink in. Finally, after what seemed an eternity to the eager and thoroughly-soaked American, he replied that yes, that would probably be for the best. Alfred grinned and ran across the deserted street, his smile widening upon seeing the Brit up close. He proffered a now-useless umbrella, but Arthur rejected it, telling him no thank you, that he rather liked being in the rain. Alfred beamed and informed Arthur that he liked him in the rain, too. Arthur blushed, and they linked arms and walked to the nearest cafe.

Neither of them mentioned that they'd both already eaten lunch.

_You're the most beautiful thing that I've ever seen. In the sun, you're mind-blowing. In the snow, you're breathtaking. And then there's you in the rain..._


End file.
